Chapter 2

Diana's POV

I don't say anything.

I just stare at the clock above his head.

The hands jump back another big notch.

Only a quarter of the dial is left before it hits zero.

I take a deep breath and ask, keeping my voice level. "Marcus, where were you today?"

"I told you already, I was working late at the office!"

Marcus shoves his phone into his pocket, his eyes shifting away even as his voice jumps a few octaves higher.

"So what's the deal with Paige?" I keep my eyes locked on his. "Is helping her furniture shop part of working late too?"

His expression freezes for a second, then twists into irritation.

"Diana, are you serious right now? Paige just graduated, she's here in this city all on her own, and she got assigned to my team. Her apartment had some issues, so I helped her out. I'm her boss, I've got more experience than she does. What's wrong with that?"

"Helping her pick out furniture, driving her to and from work, holding her hand?" I let out a cold laugh. "Marcus, do you think I'm blind? Or just stupid?"

"You're being completely unreasonable!"

Marcus slams his hand down on the table, hard enough to rattle the dishes.

"That photo was just a bad angle! I bust my ass out there every day for this family, and instead of appreciating it, you act like a paranoid lunatic! Look at you, acting all bitter and miserable. It's disgusting."

He grabs his jacket off the couch and slams the door on his way out without looking back.

I stand alone in the empty living room, cold straight through.

Bitter and miserable?

I gave up my career as a marketing executive to take care of Willow, so he could focus on building his career without worrying about anything at home.

I've stayed up all night nursing our sick daughter. I've budgeted every dollar that comes in and out of this house.

And now he thinks I'm some bitter, miserable wife.

I close my eyes, and the tears finally spill over.

I understand now. He doesn't have much left in him for this family, or for me.

Because I saw it, right before he left. The clock above his head ticked back another notch.

Over the next two weeks, Marcus comes home less and less.

The excuse is always the same. Business trip. Client dinner. Working late.

But I know exactly where he is. He's with Paige.

And Paige gets bolder by the day.

She calls Marcus late at night, her voice all sweet and helpless. "Marcus, my pipe just burst."

She leaves her lipstick, the one that smells like her perfume, wedged in the seat of his car, like it's an accident.

She even gets her hands on my phone number somehow and texts me directly.

"Hey Diana, Marcus has been working so hard on my project lately, poor guy. I made him some homemade bone broth, and I sent some over to you too. A woman's got to take care of herself, you know?"

I read that disgusting message once and block her number on the spot.

Every day, on the rare nights Marcus comes home, I watch that clock above his head.

The hands are creeping toward the very edge now.

I tell myself I'm ready. Whenever he finally can't take it anymore and asks for a divorce, I'll fight for full custody of Willow. No matter what.

The days pass, one after another, until tonight.

I'm in the kitchen warming up milk for Willow. She runs in barefoot, hugging her stuffed bear, and comes right up beside me.

"Mommy, when's Daddy coming home? Willow misses him."

I turn around, about to put on a smile to comfort her.

Then I see it. The clock above Willow's head has started spinning backward too.

The hands are racing toward zero.

The cup slips out of my hand and shatters on the floor.

"Willow!"

I lunge and pull her into my arms, holding her tight.

Why?

She's only three.

"Mommy, what's wrong? You're hurting Willow..." She reaches up, timid, and touches my face.

I press my hand to her forehead. She's burning up.

"Willow, do you have a fever? When did this start?"

I scramble for the thermometer, my hands shaking. I check it. 103.6.

And her breathing is getting fast and shallow, her little face flushed red, her body starting to twitch.

My mind goes blank. I fumble to get her dressed, grabbing my phone at the same time to call Marcus.

"Pick up... pick up, Marcus!"